


where the air is tight

by tosca1390



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are moments that are too flush with adrenaline and they can’t, they can’t push past and let go.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the air is tight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle Thirteen](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/500924.html). Prompts used includes: cunnilingus, press, costume.

*

“You have to _stop_ ,” he breathes against her cheek. 

Usagi bites at her bottom lip. Her gloved fingers slide into the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him close. “Mamo-chan,” she murmurs. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. She can feel the trembling of his hands against her waist, the pleats of her skirt. “It was too close tonight.”

He presses her back against the cold brick wall, the brim of his hat tipping against her brow. He turns his mouth to kiss her, wet and warm and heavy. She shuts her eyes, her hair heavy on her shoulders and the sweat thick on the nape of her neck.

It’s not always, not every time, but there are moments after an altercation, when she has scrapes over her knees and his suit is torn, when she turns into his arms and presses her fingers into his wrists, or when he will curl an arm over her waist and pull her back against his chest. There are moments that are too flush with adrenaline and they can’t, they _can’t_ push past and let go. The girls know, they always know, and they take Chibi-Usa and she takes him and they’re off, to his apartment or a rooftop or just wherever she can have her hands on him, his mouth on hers. 

It’s not very dignified, she thinks, as she pushes at his jacket and sinks her fingers into the starch of his shirt. It’s not what kings and queens and leaders do. But she’s tired and it was too close tonight and she just wants to feel the solidity of him and his mouth, the reassurance of him. 

“Too close,” he repeats, right against her mouth. 

She drops her hands to his, peeling the gloves from his hands. “I had to get that close,” she murmurs. There are innocents and pure hearts to protect, a mess of monsters overwhelming from the Trinity School. They talk about it in abstracts and moments, but everything moves so fast that she can’t do anything but act on instinct, and it drives him nuts, she knows this. 

His bare hands crawl over her waist, the pleats of her skirt. “Sometimes – Sometimes you’re just – you’re too much,” he says, voice low and rough. 

Her mouth curls a little. “You’re one to talk,” she says with a sigh.

Mamoru kneels then, his fingers sliding over her skirt. He lays his palms against the back of her thighs as his mouth skirts over the scrapes on her knees and thighs. She can still feel the burn of the scepter against her fingertips, the lingering warmth of the brooch at her chest. The bodice of her uniform stretches over her stomach, her ribs, as she inhales sharply. 

“I want to keep you safe,” he says softly. His fingers trip up her thighs and she leans back, parting her thighs. The lines of the brick press into her back. The summer night is heavy on her skin.

His mouth settles over the line of her thigh, the inside curve there. She reaches down and pushes his hat, his mask from his skin. They fall to the gravelly ground with a hollow thud. 

“You don’t need to,” she says softly. His mouth slides over her thigh, under the hem of her skirt. She settles and lets his fingers press between her legs, the warmth there. She is wet and slick as his fingers circle and move at her clit, his mouth lingering and wet at her skin. “Just keep yourself safe.”

“That’s not how this works,” he murmurs, voice muffled. 

Usagi tilts her head against the brick wall and shuts her eyes. Her fingers card through his thick hair as his thumb moves at her clit. She sighs and leans her weight against the wall, the warmth unfurling in her belly. His mouth moves over her, his tongue slick and heavy as he maps the curve of her. She can feel it, the rise of his heartbeat in time with hers. A breeze settles over them, curling in the sweat-damp curves of her knees and elbows, her hair heavy on the nape of her neck. 

She bows over him, her hands curving over the breadth of his shoulders, the folds of his midnight-black cloak. His tongue presses in and licks. He murmurs and hums into her slick skin; she thinks it might be her name; it always is. She rises on her heels, her toes curling in her boots. The image is startling; a famed hero on his knees in front of the vaulted Sailor Moon. She likes it though, she thinks as she breathes his name, bent at the waist. Her fingers dig into his back as he licks into her. She presses her mouth to his hair, muffling the low moans curling out of her throat. 

With two fingers curled in her and his tongue at her clit, she comes with his name heavy on her lips, the sound low and reverberating between her mouth and his hair. His mouth slides over her thighs and her breathes, his fingers dragging down the backs of her thighs. She smoothes her hands over his back, the tension there, her chest rising and falling with the breaths and sighs. 

“Stay tonight,” he breathes against her skin, his hands cupping her knees. 

She hums and sighs as he rises and picks her up off her feet. Her arms move around his neck as he holds her back against the brick. The sounds of the city hum in her ears as she tips her head back to meet his gaze, too dark and too blue. His mouth is slick as it moves over hers. She can feel the press of him hard against her thigh. 

“Always,” she murmurs, mouth to mouth. Her hands cup his face, fingertips soft at his temple. 

It’s fast, then. She’s soft and heavy in his arms, as he kisses her and slides into her. Her thighs press at his hips, the heels of her boots at the small of her back. He presses deep and she moves with the stretch and the arch, his mouth lingering at hers. Her fingers tangle in his shirt, loosening the tie at his throat. 

She can taste herself on his tongue and it’s enough, it’s enough for the moment to feel him against her, the press and shape of him as they entwine in the alley. The moonlight is heavy on the crown of his head. His voice is heavy and wrecked as he comes, her name something of a prayer. It rings of heaviness, a lingering against her skin; she sighs and keeps him, taking him in. 

Sometimes, it never feels like they’ll have enough time. 

*


End file.
